


Battle Scars

by Thliky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Angst, Heaven's Civil War, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Soldier Castiel, healer dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thliky/pseuds/Thliky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an intense battle with Raphael and his army during the angelic civil war, Castiel, wrecked and beaten from fighting, turns to Dean for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scars

A distant, repetitive ringing faded into Dean’s consciousness; an irritably chirpy beeping piercing through to his foggy mind. Dean rubbed aggressively at his weary eyes, grunting in response to the intrusive noise. His aching muscles protested as he reached for his ringing phone on the bedside cabinet, he could see Sam stirring slightly in the bed adjacent, the motel mattress whining under his weight.

“Hello.” Dean practically growled down the phone, his gruff voice the only noise to break the cosy silence that drowned the motel room.

“Dean.” A bleak, deep voice met Dean’s ears and his stomach twisted a little.

“Cas? It’s four in the morning, man.” Dean’s voice dripped with exasperation as he shifted into a sitting position, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake Sam.

“I know, I just wasn’t sure…” Castiel’s voice trailed off, he sounded weak and tired and panic started to rise in Dean’s throat.

“Cas, what is it? What’s wrong?” Urgency was seeping through into his words and he made no effort to hide it.

Castiel took a few, brief moments before answering, “I’m outside.” Dean wasted no time and slid straight out of bed, still in his boxers and an old T-shirt, and opened the door. The cold, fall night breeze greeted Dean, prompting a shiver that crawled up his spine. His nostrils flared as a hazy smell of burning and sweat swirled in the air beneath his nose, but he was distracted by the angel in front of him.

Any skin of Castiel’s that was visible was covered in dirt and grime and sweat, his clothes were torn and appeared to be glued to his frame with matted blood. He looked beaten and worn with a distant, weary gaze lingering on Dean; he leant slightly to his left, like he was incapable of holding himself up straight. His arms fell limply by his sides, as though they were powerless of doing much more and his hair was stuck up in every direction and sticky with dirt and blood in places.

“Cas, what the hell happened to you? You look like death.” Dean managed to eventually choke out.

Castiel’s eyes covered over with defeat and he let out a long, beaten breath. “I need your help, Dean.” He finally admitted as he tore his stare away from Dean to look at the floor.

“I’ll wake Sammy, he’s best with the first aid stuff.” Dean turned to go nudge Sam out of his peaceful sleep before Castiel stopped him.

“No wait, Dean, don’t.” His feeble attempt at feigning strength slowly wavered into a small whimper, “I just needed to…” Castiel trailed off again, as his head suddenly started to spin out of control. He went to place a hand on the door frame to steady himself but stumbled into the threshold, the flooring suddenly becoming uneven for him. But Dean’s hands caught him, his firm grip on Castiel’s shoulders keeping him on his two feet as he straightened himself out.

“Ok, come on, stay with me, Cas.” Dean hooked an arm under Cas’ and practically carried him into the bathroom. Dean propped him up on the counter before staring at him for a long moment. The angel could barely keep his eyes open and every breath he took was ragged and heavy. Dean’s brain went into overdrive, his eyes glazing over in panic, his first instinct was to go get Sam - he’d know what to do.

But he didn’t. He collected as many sterile towels and rags the unfamiliar bathroom had to offer and fetched the emergency first aid kit from under his bed. Castiel's eyes kept flickering closed and he slumped to the side, resting his head on the tiled wall.

“Cas, come on, stay awake.” Dean murmured to him in a low rattling voice, Cas let out a grunt of protest, but he managed to peel his eyes open and focus on some distant spot in the room.

Dean took a few moments to examine Castiel's face, he wasn’t sure how it was for angels, but it was always first priority for Dean and Sam to check for head wounds after a hunt. He dampened a small cloth and pressed the cool material to the burning skin of Cas' forehead, Castiel let out a short lived sigh of relief as the cold water dripped down his cheeks, creating clear tracks through the dirt and grime.

When Dean started to clean the cuts and gashes that marked his face, Castiel let out short hisses as his jaw stiffened and he recoiled from Dean's touch. “Stay still, don’t be a baby.” Dean huffed though his pursed lips.

Dean started to wash though his hair, partially to check for any hidden injuries, but also avoiding the serious wounds he could see creating scarlet stains across Castiel’s usually crisp, white shirt. Once the nest of dark hair was free from dirt and blood and the wet strands started to cling to his scalp, he decided to stop with the procrastination and target the major wounds on his torso.

He mentally prepared himself for the gore that probably lay under his clothes before he started to unbutton the too-big dress shirt. Castiel flinched in surprise and noticeably stiffened under Dean’s touch, Dean froze and flashed an apologetic look up at the glazed, blue eyes. Cas let out a rattled breath before gritting his teeth in anticipation and giving a minuscule nod to silently tell Dean to continue.

Dean gently peeled the white shirt back so it hung on Castiel's shoulders before he took in the state of the scarred skin. Almost all of his torso was covered in dark, smeared blood, so much so that it was impossible to tell where the wound was.

Dean took a sharp intake of breath and his eyes widened as he acknowledged the mess. “Cas, what happened, who did this to you?”

Castiel cast his gaze to the ground, his intense blue eyes swimming in shame. “There was a battle with Raphael...” His words were barely above a whisper, but the rasp of his voice echoed between them.

“Didn’t you have back up or something?” Dean started to dampen a fresh, large towel, avoiding Castiel's eyes.

“Yes, but Raphael’s army was too strong, we underestimated them.” Dean could tell just by the tone of his voice, he blamed himself, wholly and completely.

“Someone should have helped you.” Dean gritted out as a spark of irritation flashed through him, scratching under his skin. What use was leading an angelic civil war if you're comrades would let this happen to you, they should've had Castiel’s back, Dean thought resentfully.

Dean started to mop up the blood and clean away the grime so he’d be able to tell where his injuries were. He kept Cas talking, low soft murmurs travelling through the stiff air of the motel bathroom, so he didn't pass out from the pain, Dean asked about the battle and Castiel asked about their latest hunts.

From what Dean could gather out of the semi-conscious angel, the battle was a close one, both sides were left in a catastrophic mess and they retreated back so they could all heal and recuperate. “Why didn’t you just get one of your angel buddies to fix you up?” Dean asks distractedly, as he wiped at his torso.

“I... I don’t know. They were preoccupied, there were already so many casualties.” Castiel stammered, as if he hadn’t thought about it until Dean had asked, “I just wanted to come here.”

Dean paused as he finished dabbing up the last of the liquid to reveal a horrific looking wound up the left of his torso. “We’re going to need some alcohol for this.” He mumbled as he retreated out of the room and towards the liqueur cabinet to grab as many bottles as possible. Castiel's words rattled through Deans head, the guy was probably moments away from passing out, possibly dying if the bleeding didn't stop, and he chose to come to some crappy motel in the middle of nowhere.

They fell into a tense silence as Dean started applying the alcohol and stitching up the worryingly deep gash. Castiel hissed through gritted teeth and let out strangled groans, grimacing as Dean tried his best to make it as painless as possible.

After a few minutes of excruciating pain, Dean finally finished patching up the worst of the injuries. He knew there were most likely more, but after taking one look at Cas – his skin startlingly pale against his damp, dark hair and his chest heaving up and down as he took every laboured breath – he knew the next move would be to rest. If he dealt with too much all at once, he would definitely pass out from the pain.

“Ok, buddy, you should rest, let your body recover and by morning your mojo will be able to take care of the rest of this.” Of course, Dean had no idea if that was true or not, he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do when it came to angelic anatomy, but Castiel didn't correct him.

Castiel's faltering eyes snapped open in alarm. “No,” he spoke suddenly, “I can’t, I have to go.” He tried to push himself up from the countertop, determined to stand on his own two legs, but he was still weak, fatigue and the aching aftermath of the battle settling in and dwelling in his bones, he stumbled forward slightly and Dean's arms instantly shot forward and held Cas up straight.

“Whoa, dude, you can’t go anywhere at the moment.” Dean tried to tug Castiel towards the bed, so he could sit down, but he remained stubborn.

“No, Dean, I have to return to heaven. They’ll be preparing for another battle and rebuilding defences, I have to go help.”

“Cas, look at yourself! You won’t get halfway there without collapsing! They can go one night without you.” Dean’s voice was practically a growl, he couldn’t possibly let Cas go back to get slaughtered again, he’d barely survived, maybe he wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

“Dean, I can’t abandon my brothers and sisters! They need me!” Dean felt something twinge inside him for a brief moment, if Dean was in Castiel's state then he would still be at Sammy’s side in a second, but then again Sam wouldn’t let Dean get in such a mess, and Sam would be there afterwards to patch him up.

“Fuck ‘em, Cas!” sudden anger burst into Dean’s voice. “I need you.”

Castiel froze, his eyes suddenly softening and his stubborn muscles started to relax in a moment of weakness. “Dean, I’m sorry.” He said, his voice cracking a little, as he started to move towards the door.

“No! Cas, you can’t, you’ll end up dead!” Desperation began to break into Dean’s voice as he clung to Cas’ sleeve.

“Dean, I have to!” Castiel whipped around to give Dean a piercing glare, but he met with Dean’s lips on his. Dean’s hands left Castiel’s arm and cupped his face as he deepened the kiss, his lips falling between Castiel's, he could feel Cas’ stern jaw start to slacken as any clear thought left his head. Castiel tasted vaguely metallic, but Dean clung to him urgently, every muscle in his body working to keep Cas as close as possible. After he felt his point had been made, he let his lips slowly part from Castiel's, gently and carefully as if not to spook a fragile deer.

“Please, Cas, just stay tonight, just so you can heal.” Dean’s voice was little more than a whisper and the fact that Dean was begging him was such an alien concept that Castiel felt as if he hadn’t heard him right. Dean’s sharp, green eyes met his and watched the muscles in his neck strain as he swallowed thickly.

“But I-” Castiel managed to croak out two words, before Dean pushed their lips together again, if Castiel needed convincing, then Dean could do that.

This kiss was less intense and more genuine, every movement conveying a thousand pleas as their mouths moved slowly and deeply in unison. Dean’s fingers stroked up through his damp mop of hair and Castiel's arms instinctively and gently wrapped around Dean’s middle, enveloping him in the natural warmth of his body. Castiel winced slightly as Dean drags his lips off of his, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to start this now when Cas was probably moments away from collapsing into unconsciousness. But it did the trick, because when Dean looked hopefully up at Castiel, he gave a tiny sigh of defeat and a minuscule nod of the head to silently tell him, ‘Ok, I’ll stay.’

Dean kept a firm hand clamped on Castiel's wrist, so he wouldn’t decide to fly off whilst he had his back turned, and led him back into the room. Sam hadn’t moved since before, but Dean had a slight suspicion that the shouting had probably woken him and he had decided not to interrupt their ‘moment’. Dean was thankful, if Sam had walked in on them kissing, he probably would have been mortified, but he tried not to think about that.

Dean crawled back under the sheets and gently tugged Castiel down next to him, Cas stiffened for a moment as if he was suddenly thinking he shouldn’t be here in Dean Winchester's bed, he should be up in heaven, preparing for battle. But he thought better of it and tucked himself neatly next to Dean before shutting his eyes.

Dean didn’t sleep for an hour or so, he cocooned his arms around Cas and watched him whilst he rested, he wasn’t really sure if he was sleeping, Cas had said on numerous occasions that angels didn’t need to sleep, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t, maybe he had to after he’d sustained injuries like these. Or maybe he just needed to lay still for a little while, close his eyes and shut out the world, just till he recuperated.

Whatever he was doing, Dean was grateful for it, at least he knew he was not in harm’s way when he was lying in Dean's arms. He never really had to worry about Castiel before, because he could handle himself, he was near invincible, he didn’t need Dean to watch over him. But the thought of Castiel stumbling into battle and falling to the mercy of Raphael whilst the other angels just watched, wasn’t something he could bare. He’d lost enough already, he needed Cas to stay alive.

Eventually, Dean’s eyes started to flutter close and Castiel's warm breath on his cheek beckoned him back to sleep. Just as he started to fall into unconsciousness, he heard Cas’ soft voice murmur to him, “Thank you, Dean.”


End file.
